


Chronicles of Fry

by Deense



Category: Chronicles of Riddick (2004), Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deense/pseuds/Deense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Carolyn had survived the planet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chronicles of Fry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katherine_tag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katherine_tag/gifts).



> I saw this on the pinch hit list and had to write it, even though it wasn't my assignment. I love the tension between Riddick and Fry during all of Pitch Black, and her death at the end of the movie was heart-wrenching. Having a chance to write this what-if was something I couldn't resist. So thank you yuletider, for the request.

_"Said I'd die for them, not you"_

The words echoed through her as she jerked awake, her skin cold and clammy, the light harsh in her eyes. Moving hurt, searing pain that caused her to gasp for air, scrabbling at the cords and tubes that blossomed from her skin. Pain burst through her as she tried to sit, an explosion of fire inside of her body.

She heard voices, panic as the blackness descended, enveloping her. Then the pain was gone.

* * *

 _"Got a better idea. Come with me. They're already dead. Get on board."_

Carolyn can hear his voice as she regains consciousness. She's saying no, mumbling the word through too-dry lips. The word is barely more than a croak, her throat rough from screams that still echo in her mind.

That's when the other voices start again. Voices she doesn't know, filled with what sounds like concern. A man and a woman, she can tell that much, but little else.

In her half-conscious state this makes little sense. She's dead, she should be dead. But if the afterlife involves this much pain, Carolyn doesn't want it. Maybe this is hell, she thinks as she slowly opens her eyes, vision swimming and the light still too-bright. This is payment for her myriad sins.

She wouldn't be that lucky, she knows. Her hell would be worse than this. Hell wouldn't have her strapped to machines in a bed, in some sort of infirmary, faces she doesn't recognise peering at her in curiosity and concern. Hell would be so much worse than any of this.

"Good, you've come back to us."

* * *

It was an unbelievable story. The Imam would have said it was a miracle, but Fry had a hard time believing those happened to people like her. She remembered Riddick being hurt on that damn rock, and cajoling him back to the transport. She could remember telling him she hadn’t done this for him. She wasn’t going to die for him, and he would live. Then there was the pain, screams until her throat was raw. She could hear him roaring, a wail of anger cutting through the night like a knife.

Then she’d been dead. She should have been dead. How she lived, why this exploration ship decided to land at that time, how they’d found her… It all seemed impossible. If it weren’t for the pain, the wound in her chest that was already starting to heal and scar, she wouldn’t have believed it. She would have thought this all some post-death fantasy – an afterlife she didn’t believe in. Fry had only thought of hell as an abstract, something she feared without any real belief. Any concept of heaven was beyond her, she’d been convinced that once she died, that would be it. She’d be dead.

Only she should have been dead. It all kept coming back to that one thing. She should have been dead and she wasn’t. Instead she’d lain unconscious for weeks, her body slowly healing. They’d considered putting her in cryo, but they hadn’t been sure she’d survive it. They’d decided to take the chances with what machines they had and to pray for her survival.

Maybe the Imam was right and it was a miracle. Whatever it was, she was alive.

* * *

Missionaries, of course she would have been found by missionaries. They were exploratory scouts looking for a new world to deliver their flock to. The distress calls they'd put out as their ship went down had been heard by someone, it had seemed. They'd found the heap of metal that had been her ship and against all odds they'd found her. It was some sort of sign, according to them. She must have a purpose, they tried to tell her.

Fry didn’t care and doing her best to avoid them as much as possible. She worked around the ship to earn her keep. Repairs had to be made before they all went back into cryo for the next leg of the journey and keeping busy kept her out of the way of sympathetic looks and questioning gazes. As soon as she could get off this crate she would, not that she knew where she’d go. She had no money, the company likely thought her dead.

 _Find Riddick,_ the thought flicked through her mind, but she dismissed it, just as she had every time before. She wouldn’t know where to start, and he likely didn’t want to be found. And why would she? He was barely human some of the time, a killer and a hunter.

No, she wouldn’t go find him. She’d find the Imam and hopefully find Jack. If they’d survived the kid would be alone, and Fry knew too well what that was like. It wasn’t like she had a maternal bone in her body, but after what they’d lived through… It was something she could do. That was all.

* * *

 _”Not for me”_

When she slept she went back there, the nightmares vivid and strong. She could feel the rain on her skin, her fingers slipping from Riddick’s as that creature tore her away. She could feel the panic, the bile and blood in her throat. She could hear him, his cry that was animal more than human. So she didn’t sleep. Instead she worked – on the ship and on herself.

She was weak, needed to gain back her strength. Carolyn found that if she exhausted herself the dreams weren’t as bad. If she pushed herself til exhaustion she would have a few hours peaceful sleep before she started remembering. Before she could feel his breath at her ear and his knife against her neck. Before she felt herself torn away again. Before the screams started. Each day it started again and each day she tried to drive it from her mind. To drive _him_ from her mind. It never worked that well.

* * *

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Exactly what I have said to you,” the Imam was calm in the face of Carolyn’s frustration. “Riddick would not stay, and she would not be left behind. She vanished but days after him.”

That she was alive hadn’t fazed the Imam nearly as much as Fry had expected. He’d spoken of miracles, invited her into his home. She had accepted, only to discover that the person – people – she had come for were gone. It had taken her months to make it to this place, she never should have expected to find them here, she realised, only half listening to what the Imam was saying.

“He said we would be in danger. That there were men after him and none of us would be safe if he stayed. I tried to make her welcome here, but she wanted none of this place.” His voice was calm, at such odds with the way that she felt. “She left in the night. I have not been able to find her.”

Carolyn forced herself to swallow, realising again that her hand was pressed flat to her chest. She did that now when she was upset – touched where her scar was. Yanking her hand away, she looked up at the man, realising that he was watching her with keen eyes.

“You are welcome to stay here. To rest,” the offer he made was sincere, she had no doubt of that. But rest was the last thing that she wanted.

“No,” her smile was stiff, her answer terse. Staying here… There was a peace here, a peace that scared her if she were honest. There were things she didn’t want to face, truths about herself and the dreams that still haunted her. If she stayed she would have to, she knew that. “I owe it to Jack,” it was an excuse she was sure he would see through. “If she’s gone after Riddick- She doesn’t know what it’s like out there. She won’t be prepared.” Or maybe she would be, by now, she thought.

“At least for the night. You will need to ask questions. To speak with people and find where they have gone.”

She noticed his use of the word they, but accepted it, just as she accepted his offer. “Yes. You’re right I mean.” Carolyn pursed her lips, realising she was being terse still and rude. “Thank you.”

* * *

The Imam had been right. There was no way she could just gone running after Jack, or after Riddick. Not that she was going after Riddick, she reminded herself. It had taken her days to find the trail, but ports were ports even in New Mecca. It was Jack she'd found word of, not Riddick, and she didn't expect it to be any different. She wouldn't be able to find him, she knew that, no matter how hard she looked. So she would do what she'd told the Imam she would do, she'd found Jack.

Three ships she'd chased after at first. One had led to another which had led to a world she knew, a merchant planet where anything could be bought or sold. Jack didn't have any finesse when hunting out information. She'd left a trail that was easy for Carolyn to follow. It was lucky, in a way, because if she hadn't her fate would have much worse.

Slavers. There were lots of things that Fry hated out in the cold, but slavers were the worst. She hadn't been kind to them, nor had the men she'd hired - bounty hunters, all of them. She needed them, needed to get the word out that she was hunting Riddick and offering good money for information about where he was. What she needed was for him to hear she was alive. All it would take was time, or so she hoped. He'd think it was a trap, and wonder who knew her name, and who was using it to pull him in. It was tenuous but it was the best she could do and her only hope of finding him. Because she needed to find him. She needed to find out why she'd left Jack, she told herself. Right now that outweighed any other concern she had.

Jack, or Kyra as she was insisting on being called now, hadn't had an easy run of it. Fry wasn't surprised, no one had an easy time with slavers. Her youth and her boyishness had been her only saving grace with the crew, and for some it wouldn't have been enough. She was lucky, Carolyn supposed, that the Captain of that crew had seen value in keeping Kyra innocent - at least in that way.

Definitely not easy on her.

The girl had barely spoken the first week. She'd stared at Fry every time that she'd been in the room. The second week she'd only asked questions. Why Carolyn had left it so long to come for her. Why Riddick had left her. Why he hadn't come for her. How Fry had even been alive?

If Carolyn could have answered the questions she would have. But there was little she could do but be there when the girl woke screaming from her dreams and to put up with her silences when she was awake. She hadn't gone back to New Mecca, setting up base on a small world she knew from her days with the company. Little more than a port planet, it wasn't the most savoury of places, but that too would bring Riddick here.

Trying to win back the trust of a damaged young woman and waiting for a murderer and sociopath wasn't exactly how she'd imagined spending her days. What other choice did she have?

* * *

"You're supposed to be dead."

She knew that voice, knew it too well. For months she had heard it in her dreams - sometimes her nightmares. To hear it here, to have those words whispered in her ear, it sent shivers down her spine. It was a shiver of part terror and part excitement, the latter not something she was entirely comfortable with. It was probably why he did it, she thought, her shoulders tensing as she forced herself to not pull away.

"People have a way of being surprising, don't they?" She didn't move, too aware of the heat of his body at her back. She forced herself to not move, her hands tensing at her sides. Her fingers curled like claws, a hand tightening over the hilt of the knife she kept at her waist, even as his breath grazed her neck. "You did."

"Don't," his hand closed over hers, tense and tight. Carolyn pulled, knowing it was no use. She couldn't pull away her hand, he was stronger than she was. Part of her didn't want to pull away, a very small part she tried her best to subsume.

"Don't?" Her laugh was bitter, a dark exhalation of breath as she tilted back her head, her eyes shut. The street was dark, not far from the rooms they were renting. But he knew that, she realised. He would have known everything about them before he approached. That she was here, that Jack/Kyra was with her. "Should I tell you to not abandon a girl, knowing she would try to follow you? That she would end up with slavers?"

Riddick pushed her away and she spun to face him, her anger plain as she looked up at him. Hand again at her knife, she didn't pull it, waiting to see what he did. Carolyn knew that she wasn't fast enough, that even if she'd tried she wouldn't get in a hit. But there was a principle of defending herself and a point she wanted to make. It was a point she needed to make.

"I told her not to follow-"

She cut him off, staring his fogged goggles as if she could see through them. "You told her not to follow. You were trying to keep her safe." Carolyn mocked him with her voice. "You left her. You abandoned her. How could you expect her to not go after her?" Her words had taken her closer to him, her anger winning out over her reason. "She was a child. She worshipped you. You _abandoned_ her."

Riddick growled, stepping up to her, dwarfing her with his bulk. "I was keeping her safe."

"Safe," she spat the word at him, "is safety with slavers? You know, for someone who sees so fucking much, you don't know anything at all, do you?"

It wasn't surprising to that he grabbed her, or pushed her up against the rough alley wall. He'd always been violent, Carolyn told herself as the stone bit into her shoulders. His rage was something she was prepared for, but not his eyes. She hadn't been prepared for him to push back his goggles or to see the way his face contorted. "She would have been safe, if she'd stayed with the Holy Man."

Carolyn laughed, the sound at odds with everything about the situation. "You're an idiot as well as a maniac," her head hit the wall, strangely relaxed in his grip. "What do you know? She worshipped you," Fry was repeating herself, and didn't care. "Of course she would follow you. And you let her do just that."

"Let me do what?" Carolyn tensed when she heard the voice. This wasn't what she'd wanted. She'd wanted to control the situation, to introduce him to Kyra once he'd realised just what he'd done. Things never worked out how she wanted them, did they?

"Nothing," she shot back without looking at the girl - woman - behind her. Carolyn knew what he'd see, Kyra's a short mess of curls, her body changed enough that she could no longer pass as the boy she once had tried to. Fry's fingers caught in Riddick's shirt, a grip he could break should he want to. _Don't want to,_ her thoughts were desperate, _don't go now._

"He didn't come back for me," the words that came over her shoulder were too bitter for their years, but there was nothing Carolyn could do about that. "He doesn't want me."

"Kyra-"

Fry didn't even have a chance to try, the girl disappearing in the crowds before she could turn to face her. "Fuck." Carolyn looked up at Riddick, shaking her head as she backed away from him. "Go. Find her. Fix this." It wasn't a request but an order, the steel in her words unmistakable. She had no right to demand anything of him, but it didn't stop her from doing so. "Fix what you did."

* * *

Kyra came back first, hours later. Carolyn had been waiting, trying to distract herself with books, games, anything really. She'd ended up pacing the place they'd rented, stopping dead every time she heard sounds outside the door. When it opened, she'd frozen just like all the other times, her eyes searching Kyra's face for any clues as to how things had gone. The girl shook her head as she passed, but didn't slam the door of her room - it was something, Fry thought. She considered going to try and talk to Kyra, but what would she say? She wasn't any good at these things, whatever role she was filling in Kyra's life - sister, mother, friend, Fry didn't actually know.

 _At least she had someone now_ , Carolyn thought, not knowing if she meant Kyra or herself. The girl had come out of her room to get food and had met Fry's eyes though she didn't speak. A little thing, but it was how they communicated some days.

It was hours again before Riddick showed up. Carolyn still didn't sleep much, less than Kyra did, but she'd drifted off at some point. It was the weight of his gaze on her that woke her, she would have sworn it, those silver eyes shining in the dimly lit room.

"I didn't know you'd come back." Not after talking to Kyra. Hell, she hadn't been sure he'd even come in the first place, that he would take the bait she'd laid out. Hoped, maybe, and not just for the girl's sake, but her own.

"You're supposed to be dead."

"It's good to see you too Riddick," She sat up, stretching her arms over her head, bending her neck to work out the tension. "You've said that already, you know."

He towered over her on his feet, his arms crossed over his chest. _Nothing intimidating about that at all_ , she looked up and met his eyes, not moving from her chair. Carolyn waited, waited for him to say something, anything. Of course he didn't.

"This was productive, wasn't it?" Carolyn sighed as she pushed up from the chair, more tired than she'd been in a long time. She didn't know what to say to him, or even if she should say anything. She wasn't even sure anymore as to why she'd needed him to come or to know she was alive. "Good to see you, glad you came, all of that crap."

"Fry," she tensed when he spoke her name, moving past him to the small kitchen. She wanted a drink, badly.

Whatever else he'd meant to say didn't come, his silence enveloping them both. She'd never known silence to be so oppressive, not like this. A bottle in hand, she turned to him, waiting for him to say or do anything. Finally, she gave up, unsure of what game she was even playing anymore and half-tempted to scream in frustration. "If you need sleep, there's the couch. Go, stay, I don't care anymore."

It was a lie, and she knew it as soon as she'd said it. Some part of her needed him to stay here, wanted him to. But that wasn't something she was going to admit, she knew that too, taking a swig from the bottle she held tightly. "I'll be in my room."

* * *

 _"Said I'd die for them, not you"_

It was the same dream - the nightmare - the one she had again and again. Fry woke abruptly, sweat slicking her skin, hoping that this time she hadn't cried out. A hand grabbed hers as she reached for the light, her breath catching as she realised it was him.

"You weren't supposed to die for me," he said, his eyes swimming into focus for her, the outline of his body beside her all she could see.

"I didn't," her voice shook, barely more than a whisper. She should be dead, it was something that she faced every night when she slept. But she wasn't, and whatever this was... Carolyn didn't know and she wasn't sure she wanted to examine it too closely. "I didn't die. Riddick-"

Carolyn lifted her hand, his hold on her slipping away as she touched the tips of her fingers to his jaw. She was the one who kissed him, leaning forward on her knees, her hand against his cheek. If anything, it was a surprise he returned it, the press of his mouth demanding and needy.

"Riddick-" she started to speak, but his name barely made it out before she thought better of it. Whatever it was, she didn't want to talk right now. Talking was too complicated, it involved figuring out what she wanted to say. That involved figuring what she thought... Felt...

"I can't stay." She'd known that, even before he spoke, even as his hands moved down her arms to her waist, pulling her to him. "Won't be safe."

"I know," and she didn't care either. She knew that this wasn't going to end up with the two of them starting anew, making some sort of idyllic life together. It was too late for that, and neither of them were that people. "Don't," she kissed him again, her hands curling in the hem of his shirt and tugging it up. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to wrap her legs around his waist as he fucked her/ She wanted to lose herself in that in the hope that maybe, for once, it would chase away all the nightmares. "Just- Don't talk."

He growled at her words, a sound that reminded her of just how animal he could be at times. It wasn't something she minded, her pulse raced at the sound. Carolyn pushed him back on the bed, smiling when he did what she wanted. He was stronger than she was, she knew that. She could feel it in the heaviness of his hands as the moved under her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. It left her bare, her scars exposed, scars that the darkness wouldn't hide, not with his eyes.

Fry leaned in close, tugging his shirt off too, pressing her chest to his. She could feel him hard as she straddled him, through the pants they both wore. His hands moved over the scars on her back and she tried to not flinch. No one had seen them, not since she'd left the care of the missionaries that saved her. To have Riddick here now...

Desperately, she kissed him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his arms, whatever bit of skin she could touch. He hadn't stopped, one hand near the scars as the oter moved over the curve of her ass, his fingers dragging against fabric and flesh. "Riddick-"

"Don't talk," he was the one to growl it this time, his grip tight as he easily flipped her onto her back. Fry bit at her lip as he moved down her body. His lips brushed across the curve of her breast, her nipple, his hand tugging away her pants, pulling them down past her knees. She shivered - from lust and from a deeper longing that she hated to give in to. Carolyn gasped, pushing up into his touch, her hand skimming over his neck as she pulled him back toward her, away from the scars that were on her chest too.

Fry twisted, kicking out of her pants, pushing his down past his hips. She wanted him, her eyes meeting his as his hand slipped between her legs. Carolyn didn't know what he'd done, what he'd like, wasn't even entirely sure why he was here. All she knew was that she wanted and needed him, something that was hard for her to admit even to herself. She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds that were escaping her at his touch. Not only for that, but because she saw something in his eyes she wasn't sure she could handle and afraid he might do the same.

"Fry-" he said her name, his breath hot against her ear as he nudged her legs apart. Carolyn nodded into his shoulder, wrapping herself around him, her legs around his waist as he pushed into her. It hurt, it hurt like hell but she didn't care. And it was a pain that was quickly forgotten as he moved, her body rocking with his, her nails biting into his skin.

They were loud - too loud with a girl in the next room, Carolyn knew that - but she didn't care in that moment. What she cared about was him there with her, and that for the first time since she'd woken on that strange ship she actually _felt_ alive. That for the first time, things felt right.

He collapsed against her, both of them shaking and slick with sweat. She didn't care about the weight of him, or the shocks that still ran through her body. She didn't care that she was sore, and that she knew she'd wake up and he'd most likely be gone. Carolyn just cared about this, and wanted him to not move for a while, to fall asleep exhausted and maybe for once to not dream.


End file.
